


Confidential

by MugetsuPipefox



Category: Rise of the Guardians (2012)
Genre: Gen, In which Jack makes poor life choices, spy AU
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-06-19
Updated: 2015-06-19
Packaged: 2018-04-05 03:55:12
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,897
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4164777
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MugetsuPipefox/pseuds/MugetsuPipefox
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Spy AU. Jack's life changed completely - for better or for worse, he wasn't sure - the day he accidentally found a letter signed by a known terrorist. Now, three years on, he's made it his life mission to do whatever he can to stop Pitch Black from spreading fear and destruction; even if it means stealing from a foreign queen. No pairings.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Confidential

**Author's Note:**

> It has been way too long since I've attempted another one of these first line prompts (and the random generator I use to pick a line and a fandom apparently really likes RotG). The prompt this time was, as you've no doubt guessed, "The moment I realised what I was reading, I knew I was as good as dead."
> 
> I'd like to apologise in advance if you hate reading first person as much as I do (and omg the amount of times I had to fix it because I'd unconsciously slipped back into third person)
> 
> Dislclaimer: Don't own.

The moment I realised what I was reading, I knew I was as good as dead. That was it. Three short paragraphs and my life was over. This day was going great so far.

But seriously, who in their right mind leaves a letter as confidential as this one lying around in somewhere as bustling as a café? It didn't take a genius to see that it wasn't supposed to be seen by anyone except the addressee, and here I was reading it like it was nothing more than the morning paper. Although I can't say any newspaper I've ever read was quite as… interesting as this. After all, it wasn't every day you stumbled upon the elaborate plot of a known terrorist.

What was I going to do? The person the letter was _supposed_ to be read by must have noticed its absence by now and would be looking for it. It wouldn't take much effort to figure out that I had it and then I was probably going straight to the top of the hit list.

The sensible option was to tell the police. They could use the letter to try and stop the bad guys before they could do what they had planned, but I was hesitant. Pitch had allies everywhere, even within the police. What if alerting them to this just gave the terrorists a chance to turn it into a trap and change their plans? What if they learned it was me who gave the tip? It wasn't just my own life I was worried about, either. I'd seen enough action movies to know that the quickest way to get to someone was through their family. And there was no way I was putting my mom or my sister in harm's way because I didn't think things through.

But what else could I do? From the sounds of things, Pitch's cronies were going to be moving that night. I didn't have a lot of time.

I stared at the letter in my hand for a long time, mentally sifting through my options, weighing up the pros and cons. I was just a kid; I was far too young to making these kinds of decisions. I like to blame that very fact for the way my life played out after that. Trust a fourteen year old to make a stupid, suicidal decision. I wonder what my mother would say if she knew. Maybe I'll tell her one day.

 

* * *

 

I would never understand the appeal of upper-class parties. I'd been to more than my fair share over the years since I'd undertaken this… 'career', I suppose, but even after all this time they were still as dry and boring as ever. It was just a bunch of rich people standing around and flaunting their money while they snacked on bite-sized morsels and drank expensive wine. Where's the fun in that? But maybe that was just a sign that I didn't belong amongst the hot-shots of capitalist society.

Nevertheless, it was very important that _they_ didn't know that, so I stuck on a smile, straightened my back, and carted a tray of wine glasses around the ballroom. To anyone who happened to glance my way, I was just another waiter doing my job, serving the guests and keeping my nose clean. Too bad I wasn't going to get paid for this.

It was easy enough to spot the night's target amidst the mass of finery; she was a touch hard to miss, in all honesty. Queen Toothiana, guest of honour of Miss Josephine Harriet, the CEO of a powerful and highly influential advertising firm, was like a living canvas. When one thought 'queen', they usually didn't attribute a shock of blue, green, and yellow hair, bright pink eyes, and a high-low dress to match, but there she was in all her glory. She was, admittedly, very pretty. But that was kind of expected for a queen, especially one from a place as exotic-sounding as Punjam Hy Loo. From what I'd gathered, Harriet was trying to get on Toothiana's good side to further her company. Bigots never knew when to quit. In any case, none of this was overly important; my interests laid elsewhere. Specifically the ornate key hanging around her neck.

To the uneducated eye, it was merely a pretty decoration, but I knew better. That key was actually a proper, useable key, designed specifically to unlock/lock the concealed entrance to Her Majesty's extravagant palace and the pathway that led straight to the heart of the complex. If such a thing were to fall into the wrong hands… well… Toothiana had better hope she had good security.

Unfortunately, I wasn't the only one with my eye on it. There were more than a few suspicious characters littered throughout the room, some more so than others, and some I quickly identified as Nightmares from past encounters. Nightmares, as they were called (such an original name…), was code for Pitch Black's minions. I'd run up against them before with varying degrees of success, but for the most part they were pretty easy to deal with, so long as you weren't facing a swarm of them at once. I just hoped my disguise (which equated to a black wig, a tuxedo, and coloured contacts) was good enough to fool them. The last thing I needed was for the mission to be a bust before it had even truly begun.

"Oi, waiter!"

At the sound of the obnoxious, heavily accented voice, I drew my gaze away from my target and over to the edge of the ballroom. The man who had called me was easily six feet tall, and even from this distance and despite his suit it was obvious he was well toned. He also looked rather uncomfortable in the whole social situation; he was tense, even as he leaned against the wall in a ploy to look casual. And he was glaring at me like I'd murdered his whole family. What a wonderful first impression.

"Yes sir?" I asked politely as I made my way over.

But beyond a quick, narrow-eyed once-over, the guy completely ignored me. Rude.

I was about to simply leave – I had far more important things to do than stand there and be judged by Mr Anti-Social, after all – but was stopped by a small hand tugging gently on my pant leg. Looking down, it wasn't hard to spot the culprit.

He was easily the shortest man I had ever seen. Seriously, he couldn't have been more than five feet tall, possibly even only four and a half. He was dressed in a golden yellow suit that matched the colour of his hair (which, interestingly, was styled in a way reminiscent of the rising sun).

It was only when I broke out my stupor that I realised he was trying to tell me something. Sign language, from the looks of things. Now, I was fully fluent in English (my mother tongue, so it probably doesn't count for anything special) and I could say a few bits and pieces in other languages, but this was not something I'd ever had to use before. In short, I had absolutely no idea what he was trying to say.

"He wants a bloody drink, mate," Mr Anti-Social snapped, glaring at me in that huffy way of his.

"Oh, of course sir, my apologies," I quickly said, smiling sincerely at the man I had mentally dubbed 'Sunny' as I passed him one of the wine glasses from my tray. _But no smile for you_ , I thought spitefully, mentally glaring at the Australian.

Sunny gave what was probably a thank you and sent a scowl at his companion (because surely they couldn't be friends), and I took that as my cue to leave.

"Aren't ya a bit young to be workin' here?" Mr Anti-Social asked, effectively stopping me in my tracks.

I bit back an irritated sigh and looked to the ceiling for strength before turning back around. "I'm flattered you think so, sir."

"How old are ya, exactly?"

"Pardon, sir?"

"I just don't see why someone like Miss Harriet would hire a fifteen year old to serve alcohol at a party for a bunch of important people like this, is all," Mr Anti-Social explained suspiciously. "Pretty sure that's illegal, isn't it?"

Sunny looked how I felt. Too bad I had to continue being polite.

"Well then, I suppose it's just as well I'm not fifteen," I replied with false patience. He had a point – at seventeen years of age I wasn't legally allowed to do what I was doing (actually, what I was _really_ doing wasn't legal at all, regardless of age), but hey, at least I wasn't lying. Mr Anti-Social didn't look to be buying it though, and opened his mouth to say something further. I quickly cut him off. "If you'll excuse me sir, I must attend to the other guests."

Without waiting for a response, I turned my back and walked away. I would have to keep an eye on both of them, I decided. Not only did they appear glaringly out of place (even more so than the Nightmares, and that was quite a feat), but both of them were sporting concealed weapons. Never a good sign at a party like this.

I waited about an hour to minimise suspicion (and for Mr Anti-Social to stop _watching me_ ) before moving into action. The Nightmares hadn't made a move yet, but I had no doubt they would soon, so it was best to get in before they did.

Trying to remain as inconspicuous as possible, stopping to serve guests along the way, I slowly started to meander over to where Toothiana was chatting with the head of an oil company.

"Your Majesty, sirs, madams," I bowed when I reached them. "Would any of you care for a refill?"

"I'm fine, thank you," Toothiana replied politely, her voice soft.

"Oh, what the hell, it's a celebration," one of the men grinned and I dutifully exchanged his empty glass for a full one.

When all who wanted a drink had been served, I bowed again and moved away, conscious of the many eyes of Toothiana's guards following my every step. Part one was a success.

It took about ten minutes before the last of the guards (and Mr Anti-Social, who had decided it was the perfect time to glare at me again) finally stopped watching me and I could put part two into motion.

All it took was to make sure my trajectory passed by Toothiana. As simple and easy as that. The key sat in my pocket like a hot coal as I continued on to a group of ladies a short distance away.

Invisibility was something I found I could achieve without any significant effort. You just had to make sure to present yourself as a non-factor and people dropped their guard. Being very good at sleight of hand certainly helped, too. Now all I had to do was sneak out before she noticed it was missing.

It didn't take long for an opportunity to arise. The moment I ran out of wine, I made my way to the kitchens. For all intents and purposes it looked as though I was going to send the glasses for washing – which I was. I just wasn't going to come back.

Leaving the tray on the sink, I slipped back out of the kitchen and headed for the staff bathroom. There was another waiter already in there, so I locked myself into a cubicle and conceded to waiting. After he was gone, it was a simple matter of grabbing my staff, which I had compacted and concealed under my jacket, shifting it back to its full length, and using the hooked end to open the window and haul myself out.

The fact that I was on the second floor didn't bother me at all, and it took minimal effort to clamber up to the rooftop another story above. There were no other buildings nearby, but there were plenty of trees. All I had to do was use them as cover to get off the grounds and I was home free. Her Majesty would have her key back by the following morning, along with a note telling her to take better care of it. Easy.

It was then, as usual, that life decided it was time to knock me off my high horse. Because, of course, how dare I have any self confidence whatsoever?

"Nice night to be takin' a stroll across the roof."

But did it really have to be _him_? Really, I would have taken anyone, anyone at all, over him. Trying to keep my movements as casual and unsuspicious as possible, I turned around.

"Sure is," I gave an easy smile. "If they turned all the lights off the stars would be spectacular."

"Ya sure star gazin's the only reason you're up here?" his gaze darted down to my staff before returning to my face. It looked to me like he'd already drawn his own conclusions.

"What, you're _not_ here to star gaze?" I raised a brow. "Sure they're a bit hard to see, but the view here is way better than in the city."

"Funny, cause to me it looks like you were tryin' to make a getaway," Mr Anti-Social crossed his arms.

"Maybe you should get your eyes checked, then. I know a good optometrist if you're in need of one."

"You wouldn't happen to have anythin' to do with the disappearance of a certain key-shaped necklace, would ya?"

"No? I have no idea what you're talking about," I frowned. Internally I was nowhere near as calm. This guy clearly had the same intentions as me (minus the returning it part) and if experience had taught me anything it was that those who were willing to go through with a plot like this were not adverse to more… direct methods when things got out of hand. I would have to take my leave soon if I didn't want to get caught up in a fight.

"I think ya know exactly what I'm talkin' about."

"I think you're insane, actually," I said, taking slow steps backwards and making a show of looking nervous. The guy smiled smugly. Perfect. Over confidence was often a shortcut to downfall. "So I'm going to ask you to leave nicely or I'm going to have to call the police."

"Go right ahead, mate," Mr Anti-Social smirked, matching me step for step. "I bet they'd love to hear how ya just stole an expensive bit of jewellery from a queen."

"Riiiiight," I drawled. "Well it's been a blast chatting with you, obviously-institutionally-insane-foreigner, but I have things to do, stars to gaze, all that jazz, so I'm going to go now."

"You're not goin' anywhere," he took a large step forwards, hand outstretched in preparation to grab me.

I smiled, feeling the edge of the roof beneath my feet. Without a hint of fear or hesitation I took that one final step and plummeted towards the ground. I could still hear his shout as I activated the grappling hook function of my staff and swung into the highest branches of the closest tree.

Mr Anti-Social, watching me from where he was still standing on the rooftop, actually _growled_ at me.

"Later, Kangaroo," I saluted, enjoying the sounds of his sputters of indignation as I leapt to the next tree and across the grounds towards the fence-line. I had no doubt he'd try to follow me, but with the route I was taking, I'd be long gone before he even caught sight of me.

Another successful mission done and dusted.

 

* * *

 

There was a letter sitting on my bed when I finally made it back to my hotel room. Considering the number of traps I'd set up before I'd left, this was a fairly big deal. Especially since it didn't seem like any of them had been triggered.

There was no name on the envelope and when I poked it with my staff it didn't explode or shoot out poison or anything. That was a good sign, I suppose. After staring at it for a good few minutes, I figured I may as well open it. Whoever had delivered it was good. _Really_ good. Someone like that deserved a little faith.

It was a pleasant surprise that no bomb detonated when I broke the seal. There was only a piece of folded paper inside; a letter written in elegant black script.

_Jack Frost,_

Well done on tonight's job; I expected nothing less of you. I should probably tell you, though, that the key is a fake, designed to lure out Pitch Black, and consequentially, you.

I scowled, pulling the necklace out of my pocket and examining it. Yep, on closer inspection it was a fake. I couldn't believe I didn't pick that earlier. But who was responsible, and more importantly why?

_If you're still trying to stop him, as I suspect you are judging from tonight's performance, meet me at midnight. You know where._

-M.i.M.

I openly gaped at the name signed on the bottom. M.i.M. The Man in the Moon. It was a code name, of course, just like 'Jack Frost' was (it had been Manny who had given it to me, actually), and it was a shout out to the way Manny had a knack for seeing the bigger picture and yet also the smaller details that were easy to miss. But I hadn't had any communication with him in three years, why was he suddenly contacting me now? Last I'd known, he'd been focussed on more important things than Pitch, who had been my target for as long as I'd been in this business. And now what? Did he have information for me?

I supposed there was only one way to find out.

 

* * *

 

 

The lake was where it had all really begun for me. Not far into the surrounding forest was the remnants of Pitch's base, the place I'd made my first stand against him back when I'd been a fourteen year old with far too much faith in my own abilities. I probably wouldn't have made it out alive if Manny hadn't helped that night.

The lake was the place where Jackson Overland had become Jack Frost three years ago. It felt like a lot longer.

The lake was where I was supposed to meet the Man in the Moon.

Except he wasn't there. No one was, actually. The only thing that broke the silence at all was the gentle rustling of leaves as they were nudged by the wind. I really hoped it wasn't all just a trap that I'd been stupid enough to fall for. It certainly wouldn't be the first time.

"Hello, Jack."

I spun around, staff held out before me in defence and ready to strike. But I faltered when I realised who it was.

"Toothiana?!" I stared. "Oh, uh, I mean–"

"It's fine," she smiled, amused. "But I prefer Tooth, if you don't mind."

I didn't even know how to respond. What was she doing there, unguarded at a lake in the middle of the night?

"Um, sorry, but what are you doing here?" I finally found my voice.

"She's with us," a gruff voice replied from the side.

My first thought was a plea to the heavens to strike me down because really, of all people, why did it have to be _him_? I groaned, making no effort to conceal my exasperation, and turned to face Mr Anti-Social as he entered the clearing from the tree line.

Sunny appeared soon after, a bright smile on his face, closely followed by a huge man with a long white beard who could easily have passed for Santa Cl– Oh.

Oh no.

"So either you guys have just kidnapped Tooth here," I smirked, "or I'm right in thinking you're the 'Guardians'."

"Ah, bright boy," 'Santa' beamed proudly.

"So I'm betting you're 'Santa'," I said pointedly, nodding to him. "And Tooth here is obviously the 'Tooth Fairy'. Sunny is the 'Sandman', and that leaves you, Mr Anti-Social, as the 'Easter Bunny'. Might want to work on your attitude there, Kangaroo. Wouldn't want you to be out of character, after all."

While the Australian spluttered, I turned my attention back to the others.

"Bah, is just title," 'Santa' waved flippantly. "You may call us by our names; I am North, you have already met Tooth, Bunny, and Sandy."

Wow. Ironic names much?

I'd heard of the Guardians, of course. Most people had. Well, most people in this line of work, anyway. They were renowned for being Manny's best team. As far as I knew, they hadn't come across a job they couldn't handle. Which left me with one important question.

"What do you want with me?"

"Man in Moon told us about how you are trying to stop Pitch," North explained.

"Recently Pitch's actions have been getting out of hand," Tooth continued. "We've been given the directive to stop him and Manny said that no one knows his movements better than you."

"So you need my help," I concluded.

"We don't need this blighter's help," Bunny grumbled.

Sandy started signing something.

"You know I can't understand you, right?" I raised a brow.

He sighed.

"What Sandy is trying to say," North translated, "is that we would like to team up. This is formal invitation for you to join Guardians!"

If a midnight meeting in the woods by a lake shore was his idea of 'formal', I wasn't sure I wanted to see 'casual'.

"I'm sorry, I must have heard you wrong because there's no way you just said what I thought I heard."

"Manny has chosen you to be a Guardian," Tooth smiled at me.

"Um, thanks but no thanks. I don't operate the way you guys do. What you guys do really just isn't my thing."

"Great, we tried, he said no, can we go now?" Bunny huffed. "I hardly think we need some bratty teenager to take down Pitch. We've taken on harder and more dangerous missions dozens of times before and never had a problem. Why would we suddenly need help now?"

"Wow, you do realise I'm standing right here, right?"

"Jack, this is chance to finally complete the job you've been working on for so long," North said earnestly. "We have plan to catch him, but we need your help. If we work together, we will be able to stop him from ever hurting anyone ever again. I feel it! In my belly!"

It _would_ be nice to finally be done with this stupid case; to finally be able to go home to my mom and sister. It had been three years since I'd seen them. They probably thought I was dead. That was the general consensus when missing person searches got no results, wasn't it? I would have to face their wrath, no doubt. But it would be worth it in the end.

I heaved a heavy sigh, running a hand through my hair. "I'm probably going to regret this," I mumbled. Lifting my head I took in their expressions – three eager and one irritated. It was probably worth it just to annoy Bunny. "Fine, you win. I'm in."


End file.
